


Let me be yours

by Fushicho



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fushicho/pseuds/Fushicho
Summary: Jaskier gets tired of being used by his lovers and the people around him, and Geralt tries to cheer him up.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 239
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #008





	Let me be yours

Jaskier had been silent for three days straight now. Well, not exactly  _ silent _ , it was Jaskier, but… nothing out of a few utility sentences. No songs, just a bit of strumming here and there, no chit-chat, no flirt.

Nothing.

“Is it still because of that boy?” He asks, concerned when they settle for the night and he can officially declare it’s been a day without any unnecessary noise coming from the bard.

“It’s not just him. But it’s a bard thing, I don’t expect you to understand.”

Geralt sighs and doesn't insist. He hates to be pushed and doesn't want to inflict that discomfort to others, especially Jaskier who's usually so vocal about everything.

The next day they can see fields on the horizon, burned by the sun and almost copper. It's late fall after all, and he’ll need to heat out to Kaer Morhen soon, though he couldn’t let his friend alone when he was like this.

“You see the cornfields? It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I think it’s sad.”

“Really?”

“They loved the fields as long as they were useful. They cherished them, and once they got what they wanted they left them uncared for, left them to burn until there’s nothing left.”

And of course, he could see the analogy there. It was hard to miss, for once, and he still remembered the stableboy. They passed often through that town, and the witcher knew the lad and Jaskier were seeing each other every time. Until the boy married and, while he could understand how that could put a sudden stop to any other relationship, he called Jaskier a stupid whore and Geralt punched him. Hard.

“I should have killed that boy.”

He growls, vaguely wondering if they could turn around so he might finish the job when his friend just… sighs. And this, perhaps more than anything else, is what makes his stomach fill with dread. Because ranting on exes is part of the game.

They fall into an uncomfortable silence again.

"Jaskier…" He calls softly when they enter the fields. "Am I using you too?"

“Perhaps a bit? After all I do sing your praises. I wash your hair. Tend to your wounds. But I’m using you too so, I guess we’re even.”

That doesn’t help, at all, and his heart ache at the idea of using Jaskier. That’s not what he wants. He never wanted that.

“Is… Is it being used by people if you care for them?”

His companion snorts and shakes his head. Somehow this is worse than anything that happened for the past few days. He used to be hopeful, used to love freely. And now… Now he’s laughing at the mere idea of someone caring for him.

“You see Geralt, I don’t understand how you can have enhanced eyes and still be so blind. No one cares about me. It’s all pretend, so they can bask in the love I so freely give, like the idiot I am, then toss me aside when they’ve found someone better. He’s not the first. And he probably won’t be the last, but I’m getting tired of it. The thing is, as a bard, it’s not like I have many choices. If I don’t seduce a bit, I mean, I like it, or rather used to like it, but if I don’t flirt I lose half of my chances with the crowd. I’ve been saved from many nights outside because I was able to seduce someone. And they love me. For an hour or a night they do, they really do. But as soon as we’re done they forget about me and I’m here, alone with my broken heart and so much love to give. I… I don’t even need someone to love me back. I just… I guess I’m tired of being rejected. Again, and again, and again, no matter what I do, no matter who I try to be.”

The air smells of salt and the witcher pretends it’s not the case. He pretends he can’t hear his friend’s sniffing and can’t see him rubs his eyes because he needs to think, just a minute, so this time he doesn’t fuck everything up like he did at the mountain.

“Come with me.”

“Why do you think I’m here? To take a walk by myself?”

“No, I mean come with me this winter. To Kaer Morhen. I… miss you. And my brothers are asking about you, it’s time you meet them. If you want, that is.”

He doesn’t dare to look, doesn’t even dare to breathe, and lets Roach put a few meters between them before he asks her to stop just like Jaskier did.

“You pity me.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh no. No no no no. I’m not-I’m not some kind of broken thing you need to fix, I don’t need your pity. I won’t go with you, I won’t be the poor little thing everyone needs to watch. I refuse.”

“Then I’ll accompany you to Oxenfurt.”

“Melitele’s tits, Geralt, please stop that nonsense already. Yes, I’m sad, it’s not the first time, it’ll happen again so don’t feel guilty. It’s not your fault this time, you didn’t do anything, you can freely go and do your things.”

“I’M NOT LEAVING YOU LIKE THIS!”

As soon as Geralt understands he just screamed at the bard, he regrets. His heart beats too hard in his chest and he dismounts so he can walk towards his friend, still frozen in place.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. I don’t want to leave you like this because I’ll worry all winter. I  _ care  _ for you, you stupid bard, and there’s no way I’m leaving you alone when you’re that beaten up. You need someone to be there for you, and I want to be that someone, if you let me.”

He ends up talking a lot more than he intended to, spilling feelings he wasn’t sure he had and stands, helpless, in front of Jaskier, waiting for him to make his mind.

“You can’t like me.”

“Why not?”

“Because  _ no one _ in their right mind would.”

“I’m a mutant, remember? A witcher, a monster. Surely I don’t have that thing humans call a right mind.”

He jokes and it works. His friend’s face lights up, even if his eyes are still damp, even if his lips tremble.

“Can I ride Roach, then? If you care about me you should care about my blisters.”

“Just this once, then. Maybe it’s time we find you your own horse.”

“And with what money?”

“I know a few places that won’t charge us too much.”

“Sure you do. If I sing a bit more and if you hunt our dinner when possible, we could make a bit more money too.”

Geralt is happy to listen to the rambling that follows, providing insights and trying to joke here and there, just so he could see Jaskier’s bright smiles and outraged pouts.

“You know what? You were right. It’s beautiful. I should use it for a ballad.”

And that, maybe more than the rest, lifted the weight on his heart.


End file.
